Prayers of a Refugee
by LadiSmilePretty
Summary: Her hand was firmly planted to her side, hot sticky liquid seeping through her fingers, the last thing that she remembered thinking was how comfortable she felt in her mother's arms. How it was okay if this was the last thing she remembered. She'd be happy with that, at peace.
1. Chapter 1

**Okay, okay, I can't stop myself. Here's a new multi-chapter fic. **

**I don't own a damn thing, I just love playing with other peoples toys. **

* * *

She had never noticed, on a normal day, how soft her mother's arms felt wrapped around her. How even though over the stench of blood, she could still smell the fabric softener that Ellen had used. It smelled like cotton and fresh air. The thought never seemed to break through, except for on days like these.

Her hand was firmly planted to her side, hot sticky liquid seeping through her fingers, the last thing that she remembered thinking was how comfortable she felt in her mother's arms. How it was okay if this was the last thing she remembered. She'd be happy with that, at peace.

"I'm right here sweetie, I won't leave you." A voice choked with emotion erupted through her thoughts.

The words had reached her ears, but they didn't seem to make sense. Just noise being thrown into a silent room. They held no meaning.

She nodded feebly, not able to answer even if she could understand the words, leaning her full weight into her mother's side. Her mind started to cloud over as she fought to keep her thoughts racing, awake. She was hanging on to consciousness by a thin thread.

The sound of metal chains slammed against the linoleum floor.

* * *

The chirping of a bird caused her eyelids to flutter and a dull throbbing began to beat in her temples. She raised her hand to bring it to her aching head only to feel a sharp pain in her forearm. Her eyes shot open, the memory of a hell hound tearing into her side flashed before her, the IV in her arm pulled again and a drop of blood seeped out from the bottom of the needle. She could hear her heart beat racing from the monitor next to her and she began to panic. _Where the fuck am I? _She took desperate glances around the room for anything familiar, anything at all.

She could see her clothes neatly folded in a large zip lock baggie on a chair, no doubt they were torn to shreds and completely unwearable. Her messenger back was placed neatly on top of it, a styrofoam cup sat on the table next to the chair. Someone was here, long enough to have a cup of something.

She attempted to push herself up to a sitting position and almost cried out loud at the pain that shot up her side. She bit her lip to muffle her groans as she leaned back down and begrudgingly used the button on the bed to sit it up. At her new angle she was able to see out the window.

In the distance she could see a few tall buildings but nothing looked that much taller than ten stories, she must be somewhere in the Midwest she concluded. She had seen that skyline before, she was sure of it, she just couldn't put her finger on where.

It looked nice out. The sun was shining, big fluffy clouds were floating innocently through the bright ocean blue sky. It seemed like one of those days you just want to lay back in the grass and soak in the sun's rays. Jo let herself get distracted by the sky, memories of running through fields of golden wheat, her bouncing blonde curls getting tangled in the wind. Strong arms lifting her up into the sky above the wheat.

She shook her head, rubbing her eyes clear of days that had long passed and resumed her assessment of her surroundings.

There was a table to her right, a phone and a small pad of paper was it's only occupant. Jo reached over the bed rails for the pad, only able to get the tips of her nails on the edges of the paper. She ground her teeth as she maneuvered her body as close to the right side of the bed as she could. She was only able to make it about an inch before she layed back against the bed, panting for breath as the searing pain scorched up her left side. "Fuck." She muttered as the pain began to ease.

She took a few deep breaths before she reached for the pad again. She smiled as the tips of her fingers finally made purchase on the small pad. She pulled it out in front of her and read the small emblem watermarked on the page. Lawrence Memorial Hospital. _Why am I in Lawrence?_ She was in Carthage when she... died? _How did I not die?_

Jo looked around the side of the bed for the call button. She strained her ears for the sound of foot steps immediately upon pressing the button.

She didn't have to wait long, _There must be a nurse's station close by,_ she thought absently as a middle aged woman in light blue scrubs pushed through the door.

"Well hello there darlin'." She greeted Jo in her too chipper light southern drawl.

Jo opened her mouth to respond but it felt as if her throat was coated in sand. She brought her hand to her neck motioning to the water across the room.

"Yes, of course," The nurse nodded enthusiastically answering Jo's silent request, "Your throat will be a bit dry for awhile." She said handing Jo a cup of water.

"Thank you." Jo croaked. She took a few more sips before she attempted to speak again. "How long have I been out?"

"Just a few days," The nurse shrugged, "With your injuries we were expecting you to be out a lot longer."

For the first time since waking up Jo looked down at her side with a grimace. She could still see the blood dripping a trail on the dirty linoleum floor of the hardware store, an ace bandage seeping with the angry red liquid wrapped around her waist. _Carthage,_ her brain shouted at her. She looked up at the nurse with furrowed brows, "How did I get here?"

The nurse chewed on her lips nervously, "Well it was awful strange."

"What do you mean 'strange'?" Jo cocked her head.

"Well, it was right after that meteor shower the other day. A man found you on the side of the road and brought you in. You were in real bad shape." She glanced down at Jo's side, "The doctor will explain that. Don't you remember?"

Jo shook her head. "No. I don't. A man brought me in?" The nurse nodded. "Did he leave a name?"

"No, he didn't," She said pursing her lips. "He just brought you in to the emergency room and left."

Jo nodded, "Did you see what he looked like?"

"No, I'm sorry, sweetie, I wasn't in the ER that night."

Jo nodded again, taking in all the information she could, "What's the date today?"

"May 20th."

Jo bowed her head, tears instantly pricking at her eyes, "I know this gonna sound weird, but what year?"

The nurse watched Jo for a moment, as if she was almost afraid to answer.

"Please," Jo begged finally meeting the woman's eyes.

"2013." She whispered.

"Oh god." Jo took a deep breath, fighting tooth and nail not to break down in front of this woman. "Okay." She took another deep breath, _I need a plan._ "I need you to do me a favor."

The nurse nodded, watching Jo's reaction warily.

"Is there a phone in that bag over there? Or a small address book?"

The nurse went over to the messenger bag, about to open it, when Jo shouted to stop.

"On second thought, why don't you just give me the bag?" She tried her best at a sincere smile, making a mental list of every illegal weapon she could have in that bag.

Thankfully, the nurse smiled back, "Of course," She said handing the bag over to Jo, "I'll go tell the doctor that you're awake."

"Thanks," Jo waved as the woman left the room. She unzipped the bag so quickly she may have broken it. She grabbed her wallet first, flipping it open, her ID's, credit cards, even the same amount of cash she had died with was in there.

Jo dropped the wallet in her lap, running a shaky hand down her face. _Died, I died._ She absolved. _I was dead for three years._ She took another deep breath before she resumed her rifling. She couldn't let herself get distracted, she needed to contact someone, anyone, and she needed to do it fast.

She found her old cell phone and her address book, in the pocket where she kept them. Everything was in her bag. All of it, even things she forgot she packed. _That's strange,_ Jo thought repeating the words the nurse had spoken earlier. She took the phone and address book in her lap and replaced all her other belongings in the bag.

She was trying her best to zipper the bag when a soft knock came from the door.

"Come in." Jo called out though she knew it was unnecessary.

A tall man in a doctor's coat, a stethoscope hanging from his neck, entered the room, his eyes down on the chart in his hands. "Joanna Harvelle?" He asked as he reached the end of her bed.

"That's me."

The doctor nodded, "I'm Dr. Carter."

"Nice to meet you."

"Well, Ms. Harvelle, do you know how you got here?"

"That seems to be the million dollar question." Jo quipped. Seeing the doctor had no funny bone in his body, she cleared her throat and rephrased her answer. "No I don't."

"Okay," He pulled a blood pressure cuff out of his pocket and came around the left side of the bed to take her vitals. "Do you know how old you are?"

Jo did the math quickly in her head, "I'm twenty eight."

"Alright, well your vitals are good, which is surprising. You were brought in with six deep lacerations down your left side. Starting here," He pointed just below her ribcage, "Down to here," He pointed right below her hip bone. "There were four shallower cuts near your collar bone." He took a deep breath and took a step away from the bed. "The lacerations on your side they were extremely deep. Amazingly they did not tear into any of your organs, however you will likely have a very big unappealing scar."

"But I'm okay?" Jo didn't care about scars.

"We'd like to keep you over night for observation but then you can be released."

"So I'm okay?" Jo repeated her question.

"Yes, you can go home, usually means you are okay." Dr. Carter picked up the chart he had walked in with, checked something off and proceeded to walk back out.

_Dick._ Jo flipped her phone over in her hand, turning it on, praying it would work. It turned on at least, though it wouldn't make any outgoing calls. Jo sighed pulling the phone from the table beside her and into her lap. She balanced the receiver between her shoulder and her ear as she dialed Bobby's number first. The number had been disconnected. Next was Rufus'. That was disconnected too.

Jo dialed her mother's number. Hoping that maybe, just maybe... But it was worthless. The number was no longer in service.

She scrolled through her contacts stopping when she reached the familiar name. _"I'll see you on the other side. Probably sooner than later." He chuckled lightly trying to alleviate the tension. _

_She handed him the rifle, "Make it later?" _

_He nodded, promising he'd try. That's all she knew he could promise. _

Jo dialed the number and three times she got his voice mail. "So help me Dean, if you're dead again, I swear..." She muttered into the message, "It's Jo. I'm at Lawrence Memorial room 203, call me back." She slammed the phone down, leaning back into the bed to stare out the window.

A yellow bird passed by her window and she followed it's path into the sky. The sun was bright and harsh as Jo squinted her eyes, trying to watch the bird. It swerved and dipped into puffy clouds, flapping its wings hard then gliding through air as if it was nothing. Jo supposed to a bird it was nothing. Flying was in their nature.

The phone in her lap rang and yanked her out of her day dream. "Hello?" She asked frantically as she pulled the phone to her ear.

"This better not be a trick."

Jo sighed in relief at the sound of his voice. "It's not. I promise. It's really me."

Silence greeted her on the other side of the phone.

"Come on, Dean." She pleaded.

"Why should I believe you?"

"Ask me something."

"What did you do when we first met?"

"Seriously?"

"What?"

"That's your question?"

"Yeah, why?"

"It's just, you couldn't come up with anything better?" Jo reasoned, "Like the address of that apartment in Philly? Or Bobby's wife's maiden name?"

"Wait, you know Karen's maiden name?"

"Yeah, don't you?"

"Damn it," Dean swore. Jo smiled as she could practically see him stomp his foot now, "Just answer the damn question!"

"I punched you. And you whined like a bitch." She deadpanned.

"Lawrence Memorial?"

"Room 203."

"Alright, I'll be there in a few hours."

"Few hours? Where are you?"

"Long story, I'll see you soon Jo."

"Dean?"

"Yeah, Jo?"

"Could you bring me a change of clothes?"

"What about what you wore there?"

Jo rolled her eyes, he always had to argue, "Cause the ones I have are torn and covered in blood."

"Oh, yeah sure, I guess."

"Gee, thanks. See you soon."

Almost three hours and thirty minutes to the second there was a knock at her door. The door swung open, not waiting for a reply, and Dean Winchester strode into the room. He stopped at the end of her bed studying her. He looked older to her. It had only been three years but something had aged him. _He's still gorgeous._

"You're really here?" He asked quietly still scrutinizing her.

"I'm really here." She answered just as quietly.

"I just need to make sure." He reached in his pocket pulling out a small pocket knife and a flask, he came to stand on the left side of the bed. Careful of her injuries he sat near her hip. "Here," He handed her the flask first, which she took a swig from easily, her eyes never leaving his. "One down." He took her hand gently in his and opened the pocket knife. He left a thin line on the palm of her hand. "You check out." He whispered, reaching over and tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, resting his hand on her cheek.

"Told ya so." Jo whispered back as she wrapped the corner of the blanket around her hand.

"What happened?" Dean asked, his hand trailing from the side of her face, down her arm, to take her uninjured hand in his.

Jo shrugged, "I don't know, I remember Carthage, and then I woke up here." Dean bowed his head at the mention of Carthage. Even after all this time it still weighed on him. "The nurse said someone found me in the road after the meteor showers."

Dean's head whipped up to look at her.

"What do you know?"

Dean shook his head with a sigh, "Too much. I just don't know how you could be related to it." He watched as his thumb massaged the back of her hand, "I'll tell you one thing though, it's good to see you Harvelle."

Jo smiled her first real smile in what felt like forever, "You too, Winchester."

"When are they letting you out of this place?"

"Tomorrow, I have to stay over night for observation." Jo mocked what Dr. Carter had told her earlier.

Dean nodded, a plan clearly forming in his head. "Okay, I'll come back tomorrow to get you."

"With some clothes?" She smirked noticing that he came into the room empty handed.

Dean smiled back, "Yes, with some clothes." He glanced over his shoulder at the zip lock bag sitting innocently on the chair, "That them?" He asked turning his attention back to Jo.

She bit her lip, nodding.

Dean stood from her bed side and took a step toward the chair. He lifted the bag into his hands turning it over and over. Jo watched him, her brows furrowing, as he examined the bags contents without ever opening the bag.

"Do you know who it was that dropped you off?" He asked quietly looking at her over his shoulder.

"Not a clue, the nurse said a guy brought me into the ER and then left." Jo answered shrugging, "She wasn't in the ER that night so she doesn't even know what he looks like."

"Hm," Dean hummed turning the bag in his hands again before tucking it under his arm, "Mind if I take these?"

"Knock yourself out." Jo waved at him. "Doubt you'll find anything."

"Why's that?" Dean made a move to sit on the edge of her bed again.

"I didn't have anything on me when I died." At the look of confusion on his face, she explained. "It's just when I was going through my bag, everything was in there and then some. All my ID's, all my cash, even my old college library card. But I distinctly remember that I didn't have anything on my person."

"Nothing was missing?"

"No," Jo urged, "Which is weirder than if there was."

Dean regarded the bag in his hands, toying with one of the buttons on her jacket through the thin plastic.

"Oh, hello there." A young petite red headed nurse stepped into the room. "I didn't mean to interrupt anything, but I need to change your dressings."

"No, you're not interrupting." Dean turned to give her his best smirk.

The nurse blushed almost immediately and Jo rolled her eyes, _At least some things haven't changed._

The nurse cleared her throat to regain her composure, she turned her attention to Jo, "I'm Annie by the way, I'll be your nurse if you need anything." She turned her gaze on Dean, shutting the door behind her. "Will you be the one taking Ms. Harvelle home?"

"Yeah, tomorrow right?" Dean asked, "Do you know what time?"

"We normally do check outs around one, so if you want to come in around noon we should be able to get her out the door pretty quickly." She moved around to the left side of the bed, "Do you mind if I show you how to clean the wound?" She turned back to Jo, "You could probably do it yourself, but there are some parts that might be a bit hard to reach."

Jo and Dean both nodded, "Alright, what do you need me to do?" Jo asked as Dean stood from the bed and went to stand behind Annie.

Annie grimaced, "Alright, this is going to suck, but I need you to roll on your right side."

"Great," Jo muttered remembering the unbelievable pain she had experienced trying to get the pad of paper.

"I know, honey," Annie said sympathetically, "I'm sorry."

"Here," Dean moved in front of Annie again, "Put your arm around my shoulder." He instructed Jo, she did as he said and he gently slipped his arms underneath her, lifting her gently just enough so she could roll on her right side.

"Thanks," Jo whispered as she let her arm slip from his shoulder, her eyes only left his when he moved to stand at the foot of her bed.

"Well thank you," Annie replied overly enthusiastically. "Okay, might be a little chilly for a minute."

Jo covered her face with her hands, just now realizing that she wasn't wearing anything under the hospital gown and her backside was now completely exposed. _Great, the first time Dean sees my ass and I'm practically an invalid. Way to be sexy, Harvelle. _

"I'm sorry, I know it's really cold in here," Annie apologized.

"It's okay," Jo muffled into her hands, she could feel Dean's eyes boring into her.

Annie changed the dressings on her side quickly, explaining to Dean what needed to be done and at what time intervals. He would nod and respond to her questions and ask some of his own.

"Alright," Annie said pulling the gown back down, "Would you mind?" She asked turning to Dean again.

"Sure." Dean moved in front of Annie again and slipped his arms under Jo, lifting her and laying her down on her back.

"Such a sweet boyfriend," Annie teased batting her eyelashes up at him. Jo was about to correct her, but Dean just smiled and winked at her, accepting the compliment.

Turning back to Jo, she pulled down the left shoulder of the gown. "The doctor will take the stitches out of this one before you leave." She told Jo taking the bandage off and replacing it with another one. "The other one, you'll have to come back in a week to get those out. Do you want me to make an appointment?"

Jo shook her head, "No, that's okay, I'll call when I get settled in at home."

"Alright," Annie clapped her hands together, "I'll be in later to check on you." She added giving Jo a small wave before she exited the room.

Jo tried looking around the room, tried to find anything that could hold her gaze, as the blood began to rush to her cheeks.

"So..." Dean smirked, "I see you got that tattoo."

Jo squeezed her eyes shut, only just now remembering the anti-possession tattoo placed dangerously low on her waistline, "You were never meant to see that."

"Never?" He teased her, "I don't know about 'never'."

Jo tried her best to glare at him, ignoring the heat rising to her cheeks. "Not really how I pictured it." She muttered under her breath.

"Oh, so you thought about it?" Dean urged on playfully as he made his way to the side of her bed. The worry lines he had developed over the years, smoothed out on his face, making him look like the man Jo had first met all those years ago.

"Dean." She warned, trying her hardest to sound like her mother.

"Jo," He mocked, his hand winding its way up the bed to find hers. His fingers gently urged hers to intertwine with his.

"Dean," Jo repeated herself, though it lacked the same strength, it came out more like a plead. Whiskey brown met emerald green, and it was as if her lungs could not get enough air.

Guilt and sorrow passed over Dean's eyes and he let his head drop and shoved his hands into his pockets. The lightness that had come over him left just as quickly as it had arrived. He cleared his throat as he shuffled his feet, his eyes glued to the linoleum floor.

"Dean?" Jo reached out for him, ignoring the pain in her shoulder. He didn't respond, "Dean?" She tried again.

Dean sighed as he backed up and took a seat in the chair her possessions used to occupy. He leaned his elbow on the table and rested his head in his hand. His shoulders slumped and his eyes closed, his chest rising and falling slowly as he tried to even his breathing.

Jo sat the bed up more, looking around the room as if the answer to his grief was right there with him. Then she finally noticed what was missing. "Where's Sam?"

Dean let out a sardonic laugh finally looking up at her, his eyes shining with unshed tears.

"What happened?" She had to restrain herself from yelling.

Dean told her everything. He couldn't stop talking, the levy was broken and he had to tell her. He began from the moment she died, moving in with Lisa, Sam being soulless, Crowley, Bobby, Rufus, Kevin Tran, and the trials, all the way to that very morning. It felt good to tell someone. Someone else had to know what happened besides him, Sam and Castiel. "So, to answer your first question, Sam's at home, barely able to stand and that's my fault."

"How is that your fault?" Jo had been silent the whole time he spoke but was unable to keep her outrage at his irrational guilt quiet any longer.

"It was supposed to be me, Jo." Dean slammed his hand down on the table. "I was supposed to be the one!" He pinched the bridge of his nose, remembering where he was and took a few deep breaths, composting himself. "Sam was supposed to be safe, I was going to take on the trials and he would live on being normal and happy."

"And what about you?" Jo cocked her head at him, "Where would you be?"

At that Dean smiled, "I promised I'd see you on the other side, didn't I?"

A wide toothy smile spread across her lips, the same one Dean would always picture when she came into his mind. "I would have loved it too," Jo quipped, "Going out in a blaze of glory, knowing there's a girl waiting for you on the other side. Must be a country song about it somewhere."

Dean marveled at the woman in front of him. He had just spilled every dark secret of the past three years, all the guilt weighing on him, all the mistakes he had made, everything and she could always manage to make him smile. All of the pain and anguish that had followed after her death seemed as if it was over. As if today was a new beginning and the past was just that, the past. For once he could see a light to the never-ending tunnel he called life. "You were waiting for me?"

Jo smiled at him, remorse clouding her almond eyes, "Haven't I always been waiting for you?"

Dean bowed his head sheepishly.

"Listen," Jo quickly changed the topic, "Pick me up tomorrow and I'll help you take care of Sam. We'll figure this all out."

Dean shook his head, laughing lightly, "You can't even sit up, Jo." He shook his head again, pushing himself out of the chair and taking the spot Annie had vacated, his smile never faltering. "No, Cas' is helping right now, and I need to take care of you too. When you get better you can help me."

Jo nodded, "We'll figure this out."

Dean nodded, chewing on his bottom lip, "I should get back." Dean said quietly as he took her hand in his again. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay. Tomorrow." Jo nodded again, her heart suddenly beating a bit faster, the monitor by her bed missing none of it.

Dean smirked at the monitor before he leaned down, his hand cupping her cheek, he kissed her forehead.

When he didn't make a move to go any further, Jo's heart beat slowed and disappointment set in.

"See you later, Harvelle." With that he turned on his heel and strode out the door.

Jo leaned the bed back, staring up at the ceiling. She could feel her hands shaking from the adrenaline. She chewed on her bottom lip as she replayed the the whole scene in her head. _That fucking smirk, _She thought, smiling to herself, _He's go_t_ you wrapped around his finger, 'I'll help you take care of Sam', _She mocked herself. _Who are you kidding? He's got to take care of you too, and plus he probably still sees you as that stupid little girl with a stupid crush._

Just as Jo was about to continue to berate herself for the rest of the night, the hospital room door swung back open.

Dean stomped back into the room, his hands thrown up in the air, "I know, I know, timings horrible and you're hurt and I might be way off base here but, fuck it." He leaned over the bed and crushed his lips to hers, his hands cupping her cheeks, fingers knotting in her hair.

Jo's mind reeled at Dean's actions, but her body seemed to know exactly what to do. Her right hand curled into a fist around the front of his shirt pulling him that much closer, she leaned into his kiss as best she could in her state.

Dean was the first one to pull away, panting for air he leaned his forehead against hers, "I got the high score." He smirked, pointing over to the heart monitor.

In her daze Jo glanced over to the cause of the incessant beeping and spied the heart monitor. Clarity coming to her, Jo's smacked Dean in the shoulder with her good hand.

Dean chuckled wholeheartedly as he strutted out of the room.

* * *

"Tomorrow," Her voice replayed over and over in his ears, the words were burned into his mind. He leaned back in the bench seat of the Impala and traced his fingers over his mouth. He could still feel her lips on his, moving in time as if they were made for each other, just as they had felt that day in Carthage.

Dean knew that if Jo had lived he would have gone to her after Sam jumped in the pit. There wasn't a question in his mind. He could imagine it now, collapsing in Jo's arms as he had done in Lisa's, but instead of compassionate word and a bottle of Jack Daniels to himself, Jo would have shared the bottle of whiskey with him. She wouldn't have tried to change him. She would have helped him find a way to get Sam out, everything would have been different.

He ran a hand down his weary face and turned the car on, heading for a motel he saw on the way into town. The second that Dean had hung up with Jo he bolted out the door, not bothering to tell Sam until he was well on his way. Sam had been sleeping and Dean couldn't bring himself to wake him. Sam rarely slept well normally and even less so given his current state, so when he did, Dean would go to great lengths not to disturb him.

As he pulled into the parking lot he dialed Sam's number.

"Hello?" His younger brother croaked into the phone, followed by a stream of coughs.

Dean sighed at the sound. Sam had not gotten better, he had just stayed the same, no better, no worse. "Hey." He responded as he bowed his head.

"Was it her?" Sam asked eagerly. "Is she okay?"

Dean rubbed the back of his neck as he watched the attendant in the window of the motel office. "Yeah, it's her. She's...," He trailed off, the memory of Jo's injuries assaulted him. "I guess some one found her after all the angels fell and took her to the emergency room. She had..." He trailed off again.

"The hell hound?" Sam questioned trying to get as much information as he could.

"Yeah, they stitched her up and their letting her out tomorrow." Dean tried to push the thoughts of an old run down hardware store out of his mind but he just could not get the picture of Jo looking up at him, her useless legs sprawled out before her, her hand holding in her insides. _Let's get our priorities straight, I'm not going anywhere._

Dean shook his head. "I'll be back around four with her tomorrow, I'm going to stay close tonight."

"Alright," Sam answered, his tone clearly calculating. "I'll get Castiel to help me clear out a room. The one next to yours?"

"Yeah that'll work." Dean agreed, the exhaustion of the day catching up with him.

"Did you talk to her, Dean?" Sam pushed.

"Yeah, I talked to her." Dean answered confused, "I did the tests, everything."

"That's not what I'm talking about and you know it."

Dean sighed closing his eyes. From the moment Dean had told him that Jo was alive, Sam was incessant. "Sam," He warned his little brother.

"Dean." Sam bit back, "She's alive, she's here. You have to tell her."

"I'm not talking about this anymore." Dean flipped the phone closed and pinched the bridge of his nose thinking back to the conversation he had with Sam earlier that day.

_"Are you going to tell her you love her?"_ Sam had asked. Dean had pushed the question aside saying that they didn't even know if it was really her yet. Now that Dean had seen her with his own eyes, touched her, heard her voice, kissed her, the situation he was currently in crashed down heavily on his shoulders.

Sam was sick, with what and how to fix it he had no idea, the angels had fallen from heaven so they were no help, and he had a newly humanized angel following him around like a five year old. He couldn't even keep track of the fucking prophet.

What would he have to offer her? A pile of dead friends and an old bunker. And him. A broken man pushed to the end of his rope.

Dean leaned his arm against the door of the car sighing again.

He groaned at the memory from only an hour earlier. _How could you kiss her? She's only been alive for less than a week and you attack her?_ He shook his head trying to clear it of the taste of her. He was going to have to be more careful from now on. If he kept going the way he was, he was only going to hurt her, and himself.

* * *

**Alright, so what did you think? Should I keep going? Yay? Or nay? **


	2. Chapter 2

**Thatnk you all so much for reviewing, it SERIOUSLY keeps me going on this one. This is proving harder to write than I thought...**

* * *

An abnormally warm breeze blew past the door way as Annie rolled Jo out of the hospital. "The weather has been so strange lately." Annie noted absently as they waited for Dean to pull around with the car.

"Really?" Jo asked feigning interest as she picked at a piece of lint on the sweatpants Dean had found her. She was absolutely positive they were his, as was the plain white shirt he gave her. She picked up the front of the shirt with her thumb and pointer finger and brought it up to her nose, she smiled, it still smelled like him.

"Yeah, it's only March and it's already edging on eighty degrees." The nurse complained, bringing Jo back to reality.

Thankfully, the sound of a heavy rumble that could only be the Impala came on next breeze. Jo smiled at the familiar sound. It reminded her of home. Of the Roadhouse, of her mother. Her brows furrowed at her sudden direction of thought. She followed the Impala down the road, trying to keep her breathing steady and her mind in the present. If she didn't she would crumble and Dean didn't need that. Jo needed to be strong for him.

Dean pulled up in front of them, "You ready to go, sweetheart." He called out to her as he got out of the car.

"Sure thing, Dean-o." Jo gently placed her feet on the ground and lifted herself up with her arms. It was a requirement that she be able to walk before she was able to leave. She practically bit a chunk out of her lip every time trying not to scream every time as her muscles stretched.

Dean slipped his arm under hers to take the brunt of her weight, he took the crutches from Annie, and eased Jo over to the car.

"You should wear sweats more often." Dean whispered in her ear as he opened the car door. She could almost here the smirk plastered on his lips. _Yup, definitely his. _Jo mused.

"Take a picture, it lasts longer." Jo smirked as he gently lowered her into the passenger seat.

Dean threw the crutches in the back seat once she was settled and jogged over to climb into the driver side. "I don't know, not a lot of choices at the bunker. Might not need a picture." He teased throwing the car into drive with a wink, chuckling at Jo's mock groan.

* * *

"This is it?" Jo asked indignantly as she stared out the window at the unimposing door of the bunker. "This is the great Men of Letters lair?" It looked like a large entrance to a man-hole. All red brick and cement blocks. There were only four steps up to the door and an old tarnished railing guided the stairs.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you not to judge a book by it's cover?" Dean chided as he got out of the car. He opened the passenger side and scooped Jo up in his arms.

"I can walk, you know."

"The nurse said you shouldn't over excerpt your self." Dean argued. "Plus there's a bunch of stairs."

"Uh huh." Jo eyed him suspiciously. He kept his eyes straight ahead, which gave Jo more time to examine him. He seemed to always be scowling. Before she knew what she was doing her fingers were smoothing out the skin on his forehead. When Dean gave her a curious look she just shrugged, "Always so serious." She whispered.

Jo could see Dean's Adam's apple rise and fall drastically. He cleared his throat looking away from her and opening the door.

She would never admit it out loud, at least not to him, but Dean was right. The bunker was absolutely amazing. All cherry wood and marble floors. And completely impenetrable. Jo knew her mouth was hanging open in awe but some how she couldn't bring herself to care. She hadn't felt this irrevocably safe since she was a little girl.

"It's pretty sweet, huh?" Dean asked as he carried her through the library.

"Dude," Jo grunted, "This is unbelievable."

"I know." Dean nodded in agreement, "Sometimes I still think it's all a dream."

He carried her out of the beautiful varnished wood library and down a hallway that looked like it belonged in a submarine. It was painted a stark white, an old style fire extinguisher was bolted to the wall along with a map routing out the emergency exits. As far as Jo could see, there were only two.

Dean kicked open a door to the right that was slightly ajar.

There was a full sized bed pushed up against the far left wall and a small dresser with a mirror above it, directly across the room. A small desk was against the wall near the door, books were lined across it against the wall. Dean laid her on the bed and pulled the blankets up around her.

Jo looked to her right at the night stand next to the bed. A vase of yellow wild flowers and a small balloon that had a sick penguin on it that said 'Get Well Soon!' sat in the center of the small table.

"Oh, uh, that was Cas' idea." Dean bowed his head as he ran his hand over the back of his neck.

Jo watched the balloon wave back and forth on the neon colored string. "Where is Cas?"

Dean leaned back to see out the doorway, "He should be around here some where. He might be in the kitchen?" Dean leaned out into the hallway, his hands on either side of the door. "Here he comes." Dean came back into the room and leaned against the desk, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Hey there, Jo." Castiel greeted poking his head in the door. "How are you feeling?"

Jo smiled at the once angel, "Like a hell hound tore me apart. How do you feel?"

Castiel let go of a weary sigh as he entered the room. "Well, today I have had a pounding in my temples and my stomach is gaseous."

"Well, that... is just... Well..." Jo stammered, not sure how she should respond. She looked up to Dean for help.

"Yeah, every day we get to hear all his new symptoms." Dean muttered from across the room.

"I'm sorry." Castiel turned on Dean. "I've never experienced any of these _symptoms_, as you say, so how am I to know if a certain combination is important, or deadly."

"God willing." Dean scoffed.

Castiel's mouth dropped open. "I'm very disappointed, Dean." He shook his head, turning back to Jo. "Are you hungry? I could make you a sandwich? I've just recently learned."

"That'd be great. Thanks Cas." Jo nodded.

Castiel smiled enthusiastically, obviously no one else had trusted him to make their sandwich. "Great! I'll be right back." He said rushing out of the room like a kid on Christmas morning.

"You'll regret that." Dean smirked up at her.

"Eh, I'm not that hungry anyway." Jo shrugged.

Dean pushed off from the desk and took a step toward the bed before he stopped himself. "Are you in pain?"

Jo shook her head slowly, "Nothing more than I can handle. If Cas' angel juice is really gone, were gonna need those pain pills."

Dean chuckled backing up to lean on the desk again. "Already thinking about getting back on the job." He scoffed. "Guess you wouldn't be Jo if you didn't."

Jo's brows creased as she looked up at him, "I told you I'd help you figure this out. And why shouldn't I be thinking about it?" She could feel the familiar anger only he could rile up in her begin to stir in the pit of her stomach.

"You have a fresh start, Jo." Dean practically begged, "You could start over, a new name, a new life." He bowed his head as he continued as if almost an afterthought, "Fall in love, get married, have kids." He cleared his throat catching her eye again, "Die a fat old lady surrounded by her grand kids."

Jo wanted nothing more than to punch him in his face. She could feel a fire ball of rage pitted in the middle of her chest that made it almost painful to breath. "No. I am a hunter." She ground her teeth as she pushed herself into a sitting position, throwing the blanket off her legs. "Something that I thought you knew." She used all her strength to stand and lookrd him straight in the eye. "I will hunt again."

Dean watched her with that scowl of his. "It's not like how it used to be."

"So you've said." She pushed out through clenched teeth. She could feel a warm trickle of blood start to roll down her thigh. She prayed she didn't rip a stitch.

Dean took a step closer to her, the creases in his forehead deepening. "It's dangerous now. This is the big leagues."

Jo lifted her chin and straightened her back, "When hasn't it been?"

Dean shook his head looking down at the floor. "Jesus," He sucked in a sharp breath when he saw the small puddle at Jo's feet. "Lay down, it's time to change your bandage." Dean demanded turning to get the first aid kit.

"I can do it myself." Jo spit still standing.

"I don't care if you can or not I'm going to take care of you. Lay down on your own or I swear I will cuff you to the bed!" Dean threatened.

Jo glared at him as she eased herself back on the bed.

"Thank you." He let out through clenched teeth. His eyes flashed from irritation to concern as he watched her try to cover the wince of pain. He took a deep breath calming himself, "I'll be right back." He said softer taking one last look at her before he left the room.

Jo stared at the empty doorway. _He's so angry_, she thought to herself. Jo laid back on the bed again, her fingers tracing her lips absently as she thought about the day before. _'I know timing's terrible..'_ He had said before he kissed her. _He was just happy you were alive, that's all, just like how he was sad you were dying. Nothing will ever happen with you and him. Just get that through your head._ Jo reminded herself. _You are just another school girl with a crush, nothing more. _

Jo stared up at the ceiling, a smirk creeping on her lips at the giant devil's trap she could see painted in glow-in-the-dark paint.

* * *

Dean leaned his hands on the bathroom counter and sighed. _You're a fucking dick. Why would you yell at her?_ He knew he couldn't let anything with Jo get any further than it already had. He couldn't let her get hurt again, and the way that this might end, that's all he could see. Jo in pain. The minute he saw her alive he had vowed she would never feel pain, at least if he could help it. The glare she had given him swam into his mind and he almost chuckled, _She's even hotter when she's pissed._ His mind flashed through all times she yelled at him or was angry with him and immediately shook his head to clear his thoughts. _No_, He chastised himself, _She deserves better than you. You'll only break her heart._

Dean sighed, looking up to meet his eyes in the mirror. T_here will never be a right time and a right place. Just man up, get her better, get Sammy better, find fucking Kevin, and do the trials. Alone._ Dean nodded once in the mirror, making his decision. He grabbed the first aid kit and went back to Jo's room.

* * *

She didn't even acknowledge him as he re-entered the room. "Hey," He called softly, pulling the chair from the desk over to the side of her bed and took a seat.

Jo crossed her arms over her chest, never breaking eye contact with the ceiling.

"I'm sorry." He mumbled, opening the first aid and taking out what he would need.

Jo rolled onto her right side, "Let's just get this over with."

"Alright," Dean muttered. He laid the gauze, tape, and the ointment the nurse had given him on the bed and stood to shut the door, giving Jo some privacy. Jo pushed down the waist of her sweatpants and pulled up her shirt to give him access to her injury. Dean rubbed his hands together, trying to put some warmth in them. Judging by the goose pimples that rose up on her leg, it didn't work. "Sorry," He muttered again.

"It's fine." Jo grit through her teeth.

Dean set his jaw stubbornly. "Fine." He repeated, redressing her wound. When he was done he patted her thigh a little too roughly, "You got the shoulder, right?" Not waiting for a reply he tossed the gauze on the bed next to her and exited the room.

Jo blinked at the spot Dean had once occupied, "What a dick." She sighed, pushing herself up by her arms, trying to find a way to sit up with out using her stomach muscles. So far it seemed impossible.

Panting, she was finally able to lean against the wall and pull down the shoulder of her shirt. She peeled the bandage off and crumpled it in her hand.

Jo could see herself in the mirror across the room. She had a scowl on, almost a mirror image of Dean's. And angry red scratches marred the side of her neck and the top of her shoulder. She sighed again, taking the antibiotic ointment and squeezing a liberal amount into her hands. Jo rubbed it into her scars, hoping that once they heeled they wouldn't be as noticeable. She was never one to care about how she looked, but she certainly didn't want to stick out in the crowd and a large scar would do that. People will notice and people will ask questions and it would just make her job harder to do.

Jo pulled her shirt back over her shoulder, not bothering to redress her bandage, as a small knock came through the metal door. "Jo?" Castiel's voice was muffled with the doors thickness. "Are you decent?"

Jo smiled at the quip on the tip of her tongue, _I've never been decent, _but she was too tired and still too angry at Dean to be cheeky. "Yeah, it's okay, you can come in." Jo called to Castiel.

The door creaked open as Castiel poked his head in. "I've finished making your sandwich." He smiled like the Cheshire cat, still not entering the room.

"Well come on in, let me see it." Jo smiled back, eager to see what Castiel had done.

His smile instantly faded, "Now, I don't want you to be disappointed, I've only been human for less than a week. I've known how to make sandwiches for two days." He pulled a plate from behind his back as he entered the room. "It's peanut butter and strawberry jelly. Dean says it's called a PB and J."

Jelly and peanut butter was smeared all over the plate, there wasn't really a safe place to put a hand with out it coming back sticky. There were holes in the bread where he had gripped too hard and it ripped and some of the crust was missing. "I'm sure its delicious." Jo said, smiling reassuringly as she placed a hand under the plate, raising it out of Castiel's hand. "You can't really mess up a PB and J."

"That's what Dean said when he taught me the recipe." Castiel frowned. "I still cannot replicate Dean's version though." He stated, watching her, silently urging her to try his creation.

Jo pursed her lips gingerly taking the sandwich in her hands, taking a small bite. No matter what it looks like, a PB and J is a PB and J. You really can't mess it up. "Mm." She smiled up at him, "It's good." Jo said nodding appreciatively, "Thank you."

Castiel beamed down at her, "You're welcome."

A string of coughs echoed through the hallway and then were quickly muffled by the sound of a door closing.

"Is that Sam?" Jo asked craning her neck to see past Castiel, though all she was able to see was wall.

Castiel bowed his head, shuffling his feet, "Yeah, that's him. He's real sick."

"Yeah," Jo nodded slowly, "Dean told me."

Castiel rubbed the back of his neck nervously, "I think Dean blames me." He whispered. "I didn't know that this would happen. Not at first. If I did..." He shook his head, his face transforming into a grimace, "He's right to blame me."

Jo put the sandwich down and reached out for Castiel, "Hey, we'll figure this all out. I promise." Castiel accepted her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

He pursed his lips and nodded, he didn't believe her. "I should let you rest." He shoved his hands in his pockets and backed out of the room.

"Okay," Jo whispered into the empty room. She picked at the haphazard sandwich straining her ears for some sort of sign, something of Sam, something of Dean. But it was dead quiet.

* * *

Sam doubled over with the force of his cough.

Dean closed his eyes trying to ignore the sound as he shut Sam's door. He turned to leaned against Sam's desk, crossing his legs at the ankle, pinching the bridge of his nose, he waited for Sam to catch his breath, "What were you saying?"

"Did you ever get a hold of that guy?" Sam repeated himself.

"No," Dean answered crossing his arms over his chest, "The nurse that was there never got his name or a real good look at him. He literally dropped her off at the front door."

"Charming." Sam deadpanned, leaning back to recline against the pillows on his bed.

"At least he didn't leave her on the side of the road." Dean shrugged. "But anyway, so if Jo is in Heaven and all the angels fall, how did she? She's not an angel, she's just a regular good dead person. Does that mean that all the other dead people fell too? And if they are, wouldn't she have landed in Carthage, not fucking Lawrence?" He rambled, his frustration building with every word.

"Those are all really good questions." Sam stated. At Dean's glare, he continued, "I don't know, man. I don't see Bobby anywhere, do you? He would call us as soon as he touched down. He'd be our tell tale sign that all the dead people fell. But then again, it would just be their souls, they need a body to come back to, right?" Sam asked, the more questions they answered the more popped up.

"Yeah, but Jo didn't have a body to come back to. There'd be no way to get her own body back, she'd have to get a vessel." Dean responded, pushing himself up to sit on the desk.

"Didn't Anna get her body back?"

"Yeah, but she was a general or something. She had pull that I don't think Jo could get in three years."

"Does she remember anything?"

"Nope. Not a thing."

"So... how'd it go?" Sam asked sitting up again.

"How'd what go?" Dean asked, his brows furrowing.

"Dean," Sam groaned. "Did you tell her?"

"Seriously? Do you think now is really the time?" Dean argued.

"So you admit its true. You do love her." Sam accused victoriously, pointing a finger at him.

"Jesus Christ," Dean sighed running a hand down his face. "You're unbelievable. You're half dead and that's what you're thinking about? My love life?"

"I got tired of reading the journals, and I have a lot of time on my hands." Sam shrugged, "I just want you to be happy and I think you were an idiot for not trying sooner."

Dean raised a finger at him, "As I recall the night before she died you told me it was 'horrible idea'."

Sam rolled his eyes, "At the time." He groaned, "But that doesn't change the fact that she would be good for you. You should tell her."

"Now's not the time." Dean shook his head.

Sam returned Dean's head shake with one of his own, "When are you gonna get it? With our lives, with what we do, it's never gonna be the right time. But are you really going to let her die a second time with out knowing that you love her?"

Dean jumped down from the desk, "I'm not talking about that with you." He said crossing his arms across his chest. "She has a shot Sammy, a real shot. She could get out of the life, get fucking old, older than Bobby. I'm gonna make sure she lives to be a hundred and the easiest way to do that is to get as far from all this shit as possible."

Sam nodded slowly, a condescending nod. "Jo Harvelle, out of the game?" He asked rhetorically, "Jo Harvelle, not hunting." He shook his head, "No, never. Not her. She loves the job, it's in her blood. She _chose to hunt._" Sam emphasized, "This didn't just happen to her, like us. She had a shot and made a choice. Jo will never stop hunting." Sam said as bluntly as he could, hopefully some of it would stick in his brothers thick scull.

Dean just pursed his lips and gave a stiff nod, he turned and walked out the door. Sam shaking his head after him.

Dean knew Sam was right. He was always right when it came to Jo, for some strange reason. Dean shut the door behind him and continued down the hall, slowing when he passed Jo's room.

He door was only ajar so Dean had to crane his neck a bit to see her. She was slumped against the wall, the gauze still in her hand, asleep.

Dean pushed the door open slowly, trying his best not to wake her. Her neck was going to hurt when she woke up, and on top of all of her other injuries, Dean couldn't allow that. He slipped into the room careful no to make a sound. He slid his hands underneath her and laid her down. He marveled down at her, brushing a stray piece of blond hair off her forehead. Even in her sleep she was fierce.

He knew he couldn't stop her from hunting. Knew it deep down in his bones, Jo Harvelle would never stop hunting. He couldn't let her get hurt again. He couldn't. If he couldn't stop her from hunting, he would get her as far away from him as possible. Dean felt a sharp stab in his chest at the prospect of Jo being somewhere other than right by his side. Bowing his head, he left the room.

The only shot Dean had of keeping Jo alive was keeping her as far away from him as possible, he decided resolutely as he shut the door silently behind him.

* * *

**So how'd I do on the second chapter? Please let me know what you think! Reviews help me write faster... ; ) **


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you all so much for all the reviews, I absolutely love them! So this chapter is a bit shorter, but still, I had to put this in here to get to where I'm going. Hope you like it! Let me know what you think! **

* * *

Jo groaned as she leaned her palms on the smooth granite counter of the kitchen. She pulled the crutches out from under her arms and leaned them next to the sink. They did help her when she was walking around, it took a lot of weight off her side, but they definitely weren't comfortable. "Ugh," Jo sighed as she rubbed the chaffed skin under her arms.

She must have fallen asleep at some point in the night, waiting to hear something from Sam or Dean, but there was nothing. She didn't remember lying down though, or pulling a blanket over herself. Surely the sharp burst of pain she got every time she moved would wake her. She shook her head, running a hand through her hair.

"Good morning!" Castiel beamed as he entered the room.

"Morning," Jo croaked, significantly less cheery, as she poured herself a cup of coffee. "You seemed to be in a better mood this morning." She said as she took a seat at the long wooden table in the center of the room.

Castiel smiled at her nodding, "I slept very well last night." He responded, "I feel very well rested, it is a wonder what a full night of sleep can do."

"Mmhmm," Jo hummed as she sipped on her coffee.

"I just feel so refreshed and ready to take on the day." Castiel continued pouring his own cup of coffee.

"At least one of us is." Jo muttered into her cup.

Castiel turned from the counter and took the seat across from her. "How are your injuries this morning?"

Jo shrugged, "Okay, I guess."

Castiel leaned his elbows on the table, his brow creasing in concern. "Are you healing well?" He asked seriously.

Jo locked eyes with him over the table, "I'm sure I am." She deadpanned.

Castiel pursed his lips and bowed his head, "You're not a 'morning person'." He stated, complete with air quotes. "Dean is also not a morning person. You and him are very much alike."

"Yeah, imagine that." Jo muttered as a woman called for Castiel from down the hall.

"There you are," A petite redhead exasperated as she labored through the door with grocery bags in her hands.

Castiel leaped out of the chair to help her, grabbing the bags in her right hand.

The woman looked up from bags in her hand and spotted Jo. "Well, hello there." She purred, twirling a lock of hair with her free hand.

Jo's eyebrows shot straight up, _Wasn't expecting that._

"Down girl," Dean teased as he entered the kitchen, his sock clad feet shuffling against the pristine tile. "Charlie, Jo. Jo, Charlie." He waved his hand back and forth between the women, not bothering to halt his mission for coffee.

"You're new," Charlie flirted as she thrust a hand toward Jo.

Jo accepted her hand, "I'm old, you're new."

Charlie visibly paled, going completely still, and Castiel continued collecting the groceries around her. "You're _the Jo_?" She barely whispered, before she cleared her throat, her eyes quickly darting over to Dean and back to Jo, "It's nice to meet you. I know nothing about you."

Dean glared at Charlie suspiciously. "You okay, Charlie?"

"Yeah," Charlie snatched her hand away from Jo and rubbed them on her pants before shoving them in her pockets, "Just peachy." She squeaked. "I got food."

Dean looked around the room at the mess Castiel was making of putting the groceries away, "I can see that." His eyes finally found Jo, and it was as if he saw right through her. There was no warmth, no sarcasm, no humor, nothing, just a hard clinical stare. "We need to change your bandages." He stated as his eyes scanned down the side of her neck, frowning as he noticed the lack of gauze. He pushed away from the counter and stood next to Jo.

With out thinking his hand reached out and took Jo by the chin, gently tilting her head so he could see the scratches. He didn't want to let go of her, loose any of the contact they had. A warmth had spread from where his fingers gingerly pressed into the skin on her chin and traveled down his hand quickly filling his whole body. He tried to concentrate on her neck, on the scratches there that would surely scar. A constant reminder of one of his biggest failures. He stared hard at the angry red marks. They had already started to scab. Dean let his hand drop finally as he came back to reality. _She's a quick healer, _he thought as he pursed his lips, _she'll be out of here soon._ Dean's chest felt like it was in a vice, squeezing and twisting. It was becoming hard to breath. "Come on, let's go." He said gruffly as he shuffled out of the room.

Charlie watched him as he went, her eyes wide. Once he was out of sight, her hazel eyes landed on Jo. "That was intense." She sighed, flopping down in the chair Castiel had vacated. The air was thick with tension.

Jo said nothing as she pushed herself up from the table.

* * *

Two weeks had gone by before Jo finally got Dean to take the stitches out. She hadn't torn a stitch in over three days, she was counting that as progress. Even with all the training that she had been sneaking, well as much training as she could handle. Mostly pathetic crunches that barely qualify, and short walks, ending with her gasping for air. Still, the nurse had said a week, and Dean was stalling.

It would be an understatement to say that Dean had been difficult during Jo's stay. Sure he had been just as distant and surly as she had remembered, maybe even a bit more so, but it was almost as if he was trying to get rid of her. Push her so far away that she would never want to be in the same state as him, let alone the same room.

He figured out her routine during the day and did his best to avoid her. The only time she saw him was when he came to change her bandages, which Jo insisted he didn't need to do anymore, a week prior. He wouldn't listen, saying, "I told you I would take care of you." Today was no different. Jo told him she could do it herself, but no, he had to help.

"Alright, let's get this over with." Dean groaned closing the door behind him, the first aid kit in his free hand.

Jo smirked, trying to hide her smile of excitement, standing, slowly, from her chair. Standing had gotten easier and easier with each day, sitting up from a laying position was still a little tough. The muscles on her left would strain and pull against her side causing a sharp stab to remind her she wasn't whole yet.

She eased herself on the bed and rearranged her clothes to give Dean access to the stitches.

"You're excited," Dean said sarcastically as slipped the open scissors under the first stitch.

"Sure am." Jo nodded curtly, trying to keep a straight face as she felt the second stitch be pulled out of her hip.

"You'll be able to get out of here soon." Dean continued. "I can call Garth, see what cases are out there. The East Coast is nice this time of year."

Jo looked over her shoulder at him, "You trying to get rid of me Winchester?" She asked, her face devoid of any humor that should have been in her quip.

Dean met her eyes with his trademark scowl plastered on his features. He seemed to be deciding very carefully on what he was going to say next. After a moment, he shook his head, turning his gaze back down to her side, "I just want whats best for you." He said quietly, his voice not quite finding the emotion the sentiment needed.

Jo watched him, as he made his way up the small dip above her hip. "I told you I'd help you with Sam." She reminded him. "I'm getting better."

"Yeah, you're getting better," Dean repeated, "You can get out of here, go hunt, do whatever you want." He sounded exhausted, like he had been saying the same thing over and over for days, though this was the first time Jo had ever heard it. "I'll take care of Sammy, you just... You keep going."

Jo took his hand in hers to stop him, his hands grazed down the side of her ribs. "What are you talking about?"

Dean brushed her hands away, continuing with the stitches on her ribs, "I just think it would be better if you got away from here, you know, a good distance away. You know, get back into your own kind of routine, I don't know, live your life." He slipped the scissors under the last stitch and snipped.

"You really are trying to get rid of me." Jo sighed. She couldn't explain why she felt so hollow with the realization, that he didn't want her here. Not only did she not have any blood family left, the only other family she had was throwing her out to the wolves.

"I'll call Garth in a few days, she whats going on out east." Dean said so quietly, it might as well have been a whisper as he smeared a glob of ointment on Jo's side.

Jo turned her face into her pillow, fighting the lump in her throat that was only getting larger. "So that's it?"

Dean's had paused in the dip of flesh on her side, his fingers curling over the sharp jut of her hip bone. "Yeah, that's it."

She could still feel the heat from his hand long after he had left.

* * *

"He said what?!" Charlie gasped as she leaned over the ornate cherry wood table.

Jo nodded, fanning her hands out over the large book in front of her. "Yup, he's going to call Garth to set me up with a job."

"I can't believe him." Charlie shook her head, chewing on her bottom lip.

Charlie had been a regular staple at the bunker and the only other female presence Jo had to talk to. No matter how Tom-boyish Jo was, sometimes it was nice to talk to another woman. "Shockingly I'm not surprised." Jo leaned back in the plush arm chair folding her arms over her chest.

Charlie watched Jo with sympathy on her face. "What are you going to do?"

"I have to talk to Sam." Jo turned her attention toward the hallway that lead to the bedrooms. Sam kept to his room, most of the time too weak to be up and walking around that long. He wasn't getting better. Not even close. "I have to find out what's going on with Dean."

Charlie looked down at the table with a sheepish grin. "You know, Sam was the one who told me about you." She smiled up at Jo. "Not anything in depth, but... You're important to Dean. I don't think he would be doing this if he really didn't think it was the best thing. Why don't you just talk to Dean about it?"

Jo furrowed her brows and scoffed. "That's the last thing I'm going to do."

* * *

Jo pushed the door open with her foot as she knocked softly, "Are you awake?" She whispered as she poked her head around the door.

Sam reached over and flicked on the lamp resting on his side table. "Yeah, what's going on?

Jo entered the room and shut the door behind her, immediately sticking her hands in her pockets.

"You're looking better." He said, sitting up in his bed.

"Thanks," Jo acknowledged as she ran a hand through her hair.

"So...," Sam ducked his head to catch her eye, "What's going on?"

"It's just," Jo started, the words she had thought of escaping her. She shook her head trying to rid herself of the sudden unexplainable nervousness that settled in the pit of her stomach.

"It's okay, Jo, it's just me." Sam urged, noticing her struggle. He looked up at her with that puppy dog look he was so good at. Jo bet he didn't even know when he was doing it anymore.

She let go of the breath she hadn't realized she was holding and took a a seat in the desk chair. "It's Dean."

Sam sighed exasperatedly and slumped against his pillow once again. "What did he do?"

"He's trying to get rid of me." Jo said, "He said he's going to call Garth to set up a job for me out east."

Sam rolled his eyes, "He's such an idiot."

"I agree," Jo nodded, "but what do you mean?"

"You know what he's doing, don't you?" Sam turned his head to look at her. At Jo's shake of her head, he continued, "He thinks that he's the reason you died, so the farther away from him you are the safer you are."

"Why the hell would he think that?"

"He's scared. People do stupid things when their afraid."

"What's he afraid of?" Jo pried, her voice loosing volume with every question, now barely above a whisper. She felt like she was getting an inside view on the man that always alluded her. It was just another piece in the puzzle of figuring out Dean Winchester.

"Everything." Sam answered simply. "Losing the fight, loosing me, loosing you. You're probably really high on that list right now." He shrugged, "I don't know, he might feel like you're the only one he can save."

Jo sat back, letting the thought soak in. Sam was right, she knew he was. He was always right about Dean. Jo nodded, biting her bottom lip, "Thanks." She said as she stood to leave.

"Jo," Sam called out to her, "You're not going anywhere. I can promise you that."

Jo smiled at him before she turned and shut the door behind her.

* * *

Jo leaned against the bars of her headboard, the thin pillow she propped up providing little support or padding. The bars dug into her shoulder blades, but she barely felt it. She couldn't stop thinking about what Sam had said. Dean was still plagued by the guilt of her death. Osiris knew it, Sam knew it, and she knows it now. She pursed her lips as she pulled her knees up to her chest.

_He will always see me as someone he needs to protect. A victim. I'm not a victim._ The quick and rash side of her argued. But it wasn't that simple. There's a reason Dean felt such a strong urge to protect her, why he would take so much of the blame for her untimely death. The phrase, little sister and school girl drifted through her mind and annoyance immediately bubbled in her chest.

She shook her head, _You are a grown-ass woman._ She chastised herself. _Man up. _Jo knew that in the big picture of things, it didn't matter if Dean and her ever found that right time, right place. What mattered was the world and all the evil things trying to purge it into darkness, it was about doing a job.

_I have a job to do and I'm not going anywhere._ She nodded resolutely. She gave Dean her word, she was going to help take care of Sam, help find a way to save him. Jo kept her promises.

* * *

**So what did you think? Go ahead, scroll down and write a review. Reviews make me write faster ; ) **


	4. Chapter 4

The rough tape cut into the soft skin between her fingers. The unyielding fabric of the punching bag chaffed her hands. But it didn't matter. For two weeks Dean had avoided her, but for the past three days she took it upon herself to stay away from him. It gave her a mission, a purpose, something to concentrate on other than the physical pain her injuries caused her and the emotional scars she'll never seem to get rid of. She didn't want to talk about what he had said to her, she didn't want to hear about the job that Garth had, she didn't want to see the crease form between his eyes when he was frustrated or concern, or that stupid smirk he got when he knew he was right. Or his voice, she especially didn't want to hear his voice. None of it. But it didn't matter, none of it mattered. She wasn't leaving, she had a job to do.

She threw all her force into her next hit, right cross, she could feel her shoulders shaking with the action, still, it lacked the power it used to posses. The muscles in her arms were contracting and straining, a soreness ignited down the backs of her arms and she missed this. The burn and ache of hard work, of pushing your body to the next level, she balled her hands in to fists again, shaking her arms out, and threw another punch, jab, right cross, left hook. She grimaced as she twisted to the left, taking a step back she bounced on the balls of her feet, rolling her head on her shoulders, she went forward again. Jab, jab, right cross. Jab, right cross, left hook, right cross. Jab, right cross, left hook. Jab, jab, left cross.

She kept going, oblivious to the world around her, her stomach muscles screamed in protest but Jo couldn't stop, wouldn't stop. Every ounce of anger or frustration or worry, grief, or love, went into every blow. Dean treating her like a child, jab, Meg and her hell hounds, right cross, her mother staying with her in that hardware store, left hook, Sam getting sick, right hook. Dean pushing her away, a few more combinations. Jab, jab, right hook, left hook, right cross, left cross, jab, jab.

"You're getting stronger." His voice traveled into the vast gym echoing off the walls. Jab, jab.

Jo took a step away from the bag and wiped the sweat on her forehead with the back of her arm, she didn't turn to look at him, she just bounced on the balls of her feet and took another swing at the bag. Right hook, left hook, jab, jab.

Dean stepped toward her, circling her, watching her technique, studying her. "You should tighten your stomach."

Jo dropped her arms in aggravation, looking at him as if he just told her the sky was green. She pulled up the hem of her shirt, revealing angry valleys of scars, reminding him that her muscles were shredded. "Yeah, I'll get right on that." She dropped the shirt and continued to pound on the bag. Jab, jab, right hook.

Dean rubbed a hand down his face before he spoke again. "Garth has a job for you."

"Tell him to do it himself." Jo grunted with the force of another hit, jab, jab, "I have other things to do."

"Oh," Dean's eyebrows raised as he took a seat on the weight bench near by, "And what's that?"

"Unlike some people I know," Right hook, jab, left hook, "I keep my word."

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

Jo sighed lowering her arms, picking up the towel next to Dean, "I told you I'd help and I'm going to help."

"Jo-" Dean started, but she held up a hand.

"And none of your 'I just want what's best for you' bullshit is going to work." Jo wiped her face with the towel, daring him to say something.

Dean bowed his head, his elbows on his knees, his hands laced between them. "I do just want what's best for you."

"And what is that, Dean? If you know so much about what's best for me, please enlighten me."

Dean glared up at her, she wasn't going to make this easy for him. "It's not safe for you here." He said through clenched teeth.

Jo made a show of looking around, every brick, every room, every door, chair, dresser, book, everything had protection symbols on them. "Really? Then tell me where would I be safe? Because as far as I can tell, this is Fort fucking Knox."

Dean looked at the walls as if he was cursing them, then turned his steely gaze on Jo, "You shouldn't even be here in the first place," He let out quickly, "If the wrong people-"

"No," Jo interrupted, "I should be dead."

Dean stood and took a step toward her, his eyes clouding over with something Jo could only assume was grief. "Yeah, and whose fault was that. Mine." He growled, throwing a hand to his chest.

"No!" Jo shouted, her hands running through her hair in frustration. "How many times do people have to tell you?!" She knew she should lower her voice, knew everyone would hear her, but she couldn't, she couldn't seem to get the anger to settle long enough to do it. "_I _decided to go to Carthage, _I _decided to help you with the Devil, _I _decided to put myself between you and the hell hounds, and it was _my _plan to blow up the hardware store!"

"And why did you do it, Jo? Why did you go to Philly? How did this all start for you Jo?" Dean asked, his volume raising with each word. His voice was like sandpaper against her skin. "You have been doing anything I asked since you were twenty one." His tone implying her feelings for him clouded her judgment.

Jo saw red, "You're a conceded dick, you know that? If you think that _any _of my career decisions had anything to do with-" She stopped herself, taking a deep breath and shook her head, looking down at her feet, before her brown eyes met his green with a fire behind them. "My heart will always belong to my job." She raised her chin, daring him to defy the truth that both of them served. She took a step closer, her voice raspy and worn from yelling, "You should know that more than anyone else. Everything comes second to the job," She shrugged, "whether we want it to or not." She pressed a hand to his chest, almost tenderly, before she pushed him back the step he had taken. "I'm a big girl, Dean. I make my own choices and I'm staying." Jo turned on her heel and started for the door.

"Jo." Dean followed her, grabbing her wrist to pull her back.

"I don't want to hear it." Jo wrenched her hand out of his grasp and pushed at his chest, continuing her hasty exit.

"Jo," Dean grunted as he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her back.

Jo elbowed him in the rib cage and spun, turning to stare at him with a raised brow. "Aren't you getting a little old for this Dean-o?" She taunted as she pulled up her arms to fighting position.

Dean watched her like a seasoned pro, calculating where her punches were going to land, where her feet were heading. "I'm not going to fight you Jo." He said plainly, his body spoke otherwise, his hands were at his side, taunt and ready to move.

He was stronger than her, that was obvious, even before the hell hounds he had always been stronger than her. Deceptively so too, he was stockier than Sam, but he had all the same power. If he wanted to, he could knock her out cold with one hit. But she was faster, she had always been faster than him. "Afraid I'll beat you?" She chanced a right hook, he saw it coming and swerved out of the way.

"Jo, I'm serious." He warned as he blocked another one of Jo's punches.

"What are you going to do about it, Winchester?" Jo bounced on her feet, watching him, looking for an opening. When she saw it, she winced, it would have to be a left hook.

She took it, he saw it, her fist barely grazed his cheek as he caught her hand twisting her in his arms. One hand holding her left wrist, the other arm wrapped around her waist pinning her right hand, his hand firmly on her injury. She bit her lip from crying out. "You got too many tells, Harvelle." He taunted, his hot breath fanning against the shell of her ear.

His hand trailed down from scratches to cup the unscathed part of her hip. Of course he knew where to put his hands, he knew exactly what he was doing. He'd had plenty of time to study the expanse of bare skin on her left side. Jo laid her head against his shoulder panting as the pain receded. "Oh yeah," She breathed, "Then what am I going to do next?" She slammed the heel of her foot on his toes, getting enough space so that she could twist around.

He never lost his grip on her hands, he pulled her to his chest, "You're gonna get yourself hurt, Jo." He said her name like it pained him, like it hurt to look at her, to see her here.

Jo didn't care. His touched burned her like he was on fire, made her want to hate him, to hit him, to pull him close, to let herself love him. She jumped up, using his grip as leverage, and raised her leg to kick him scare in the stomach. His hands fell from her wrists as he hit the ground and she was hollow once again. She put her hands on her knees, panting, trying to swallow the pain that scorched up her side, "You okay there old man?"

Dean groaned as he rolled onto his back, glaring up at her. She wiped the sweat on her brow on the back of her hand and he took his opening. He whipped his leg up to hit the back of her knees, throwing her onto the ground. Thankfully, it was on her right side and the padded mat was still underneath her.

Jo gasped as the floor met her shoulder then her hip.

"You okay, princess?" Dean mocked her.

"Fuck you!" She spat at him as she threw her left hand over her body and aimed for the center of his chest. He caught it, pulled her toward him. Jo kicked at him, wrenching her hand from his vice like grip, scrambling to her feet, and raced for the door.

Dean was right behind her, she knew it. She could feel his breath on the back of her neck. His arms were longer than hers, he had one around her waist and another swinging the door closed before she could even reach it. They slammed into the closed door, and Jo twisted to push at him, but Dean pinned her hands above her head before she got the chance.

She seethed at him, gasping for air, he was barely inches away. His olive eyes bounced from her whiskey brown to her nose, her lips, her chin, and back up. Their breaths had started to even out and the air had changed. It was charged, something palpable, Jo could feel in circling her, enclosing her in something warm and tangible. "You can't stop me from hunting." She whispered as if to remind him what this was all for.

Dean's eyes met hers once again, "I know." His grip started to loosen, his hands drifting down her arms. "I don't want to." His head bowed, his forehead meeting hers. She felt the tension in her shoulders start to melt. The touch alone relaxing her.

"Then why are you trying so hard?" She asked as his hands made it all the way to cup her neck, her arms fell to wrap around his waist.

"I can't..." He trailed off, taking a deep breath, he raised his head to look down on her, a hand cupping her cheek. "I won't watch you die again." Dean's right hand dropped to graze the scars on her left side, he found the hem of her shirt, and spread his fingers out over the raised lines on her hip. "Wrong places, wrong times, it doesn't change the fact that..." He cleared his throat, trying to hide the emotion, his brows creased.

Jo cupped her hand to his cheek, forcing him to look at her. "What doesn't it change?" She took a step toward him, closing the distance between them.

Dean watched her, and he looked younger once again. Like the boy that hand waved her off with the excuses of wrong time and wrong place along time ago in a bar that no longer existed. He was _her _Dean. He smirked at her, and shook his head. "You know what."

Jo laughed, "No, no, I want to hear it." He was right. She did know. Somehow, in this moment, she guessed she's always known. She'd be an idiot if she didn't. She pulled his face close to hers, their lips barely touching.

He smiled against her mouth, "I love you, Jo. Always have. Happy?" His hands gripped her hips firmly, possesively, his fingers digging into her soft flesh, pulling her closer to him.

"Not yet." Jo teased, pulling him impossibly closer as she pushed her lips against his, her fingers curled in the short hair at the back of his neck.

Dean's arms tightened against her, pulling her body flush with his, his arms wrapping around her waist.

* * *

The sheets on Dean's bed kept tangling in her legs, trapping her underneath Dean as she fought for dominance.

He laced his fingers with hers and pushed them against the bed, his lips making a firery trail down the unmarred side of her neck. He seemed to notice and tilted her head to the right to let him see her scars. He let a finger ghost down one, following its path to her collar bone before he pressed his lips to each one. He passed her collar bone and made his way for the valley between her small breasts, still hidden by the shirt she wore.

Jo squirmed underneath his touch, she pulled him up by the shoulders, her mouth attacking his, her legs wrapping around his hips. Dean seemed to have the same problem Jo was having. He couldn't stop his hands from roaming over her body, just as Jo was doing to him. She was afraid if she stopped touching him she would wake from this beautiful dream. Her fingers raked through his hair, his hand cupped her cheek, her nails left marks down his back, his hand squeezed her thigh. She didn't want this to ever stop.

Dean's hand cupped her hip, slowly moving upward, not realizing what side he was touching, lost in the lust of the moment. Jo pulled back with a yelp.

"I'm sorry," Dean sat up, pulling away from her like he was on fire. He stood from the bed and backed away till his back touched the wall.

"I'm okay, I just..." She winced as she tried to sit up, her body was already feeling the after effects of their fight. She looked at the distance he had put between them. "I need to go." Jo pushed herself off the bed and passed Dean with out another look. If she did she was sure she'd cry, or punch him. She turned into her room and slammed the door behind her.

She slid down to the floor and pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. She could still feel the pressure of Dean's hands on her.

That shouldn't have happened. She shouldn't have antagonized him and pushed him to fight her. She shouldn't have pushed him, he shouldn't have told her he loved her. Jo bowed her head, her forehead meeting her knees. He shouldn't have said that. She can't forget that. No matter how hard she fought, or pushed or buried, she couldn't forget the look on his face and the feel of his lips against hers as he said it. _I love you Jo._ The sound would forever be imprinted in her memory.

Jo shook her head, she can't love right now. She wouldn't let herself. She had a job to do. Nothing else mattered.

* * *

Dean buried his head in his hands, physically cringing at the sound of her door closing, the sound echoing down the hall.

How could he say that? How could he tell her that? The responsibility of those three little words made him sick to his stomach. He knew that soon they would be meaningless. He wasn't sticking around. Dean will die doing the trials, he had already come to peace with that. Saying those words is a commitment Dean can't keep. Jo was supposed to be safe in Heaven and waiting for him. She would have been there when he finished, she would have folded him up in her arms, and loved him for eternity in complete safety. And now that's all ruined. He'll die and leave her here to mourn, alone, again.

* * *

**So? What did you think? Let me know! **

**I told you reviews make me write faster lol. **


	5. Chapter 5

"And then you left?" Charlie asked leaning over the table in a whisper. Books and papers were sprawled out before her, nothing mentioning a human being able to fall from Heaven. Anything that they looked at, anything that they read, nothing eluded that it was actually possible.

"Yeah," Jo sighed turning the page of another large book, "Then I left." She looked up, meeting eyes over the table with Charlie. "I really don't want to talk about this."

"Sorry." Charlie mumbled, turning her attention back to her book. "It's just there's no cable here. You two are my only entertainment."

"So sorry to take that away from you." Jo rolled her eyes.

"Hey now, don't get surly with me. I'm not the one who told you I loved you, tried my best to protect you, and always tried to do the best by you."

Jo glared at Charlie. "What are you trying to say?"

Charlie folded her hands over the book in front of her. "All Dean has ever tried to do is protect those he loves till the end, to a fault, actually. What makes you think that you're any different? That you aren't on that list? Even more so now, because he didn't expect you to be here. He expected you to be waiting for him all safe and sound, and now you're not. You threw him a curve ball, is all."

Dean had all but said the same words to her the night before. Why was it when Charlie told her it made complete sense? Everything he said seemed to clicked into place. But Dean tells her and she hits him.

"It amazes me," Charlie added looking back down at the book with the smallest text ever, "That when you guys are risking your lives you don't have a second thought, but when it comes to actually talking about how you feel, you two are the most defensive people I've ever met."

Jo glared down at her book reading the same sentence for the fourth time. Charlie was right, of course she was right. She shook her head, "It doesn't matter." She closed her eyes, she hadn't meant to say that out loud.

Charlie frowned at her, "What do you mean?" She whispered.

Jo looked up at the red head, watching the concern ripple over Charlie's face. Jo couldn't recall when they had become friends, when Charlie had become her confidant, but it was easy. Jo didn't have to think about it, or question what she was telling her. She trusted Charlie inexplicably, and she wasn't sure how it happened. She sighed leaning back in her chair. "I told him I would help him figure this whole thing out." She twisted her hands together in her lap, looking anywhere but Charlie, "I just..." She shook her head, "I just can't let anything cloud that right now. I have a job to do." Jo said resolutely as she met her friends eyes.

Charlie regarded her with pursed lips. "That's a very good excuse." She said, sarcasm dripping from every word.

Jo sighed, turning back to the book.

* * *

They had nothing. It had been a full three weeks and nothing, no clues, no leads, not a damn thing. Well, that wasn't entirely true. They had a few things.

They had gotten the security tapes from the hospital. However, the entrance was obstructed and all they could see were arms laying Jo on the ground. Arms clad in a thick jacket, no skin showing, no recognizable markers, nothing. They watched the tape watching Jo's room for hours. No one entered but doctors and nurses, and none of them carried a cup, or were in there long enough to have a drink.

They searched for days looking for anything pertaining to the Demon trials or the Angel trials, nothing gave any indication that a human soul could fall with the Angels, let alone in their own body.

"Okay," Sam said from his seat in a overly plush arm chair, wrapped in an old quilt. "So what do we know?"

"A big fat nothing." Dean grumbled from across the room at an oak table with Castiel.

"That's not helping Dean." Sam snapped at him. "What do we know?" He repeated himself more forcefully, ignoring his brother's exaggerated eye roll.

Charlie leaned back in her chair, stretching her arms above her head, trying to stifle a yawn, "Jo died with out a body to come back to."

"Anna, the angel, was able to get her body back when she was resurrected, but she was a general in the army, she had friends high up that could do that." Castiel added.

"Jo doesn't remember anything from Heaven." Dean recited. This was not the first meeting they all had together, and he knew the outcome. Nothing.

Jo stared at the wood grain on the table she shared with Charlie. "Castiel, what was happening in Heaven, before I fell?"

Dean watched her cautiously. Why hadn't they thought to ask before?

"There was a war. The arch angels were gone and everyone was fighting." Castiel told her, his brows knitting together.

"Do you think..." Jo chewed on her bottom lip, trying to phrase her question just right, "Do you think the souls would have gotten involved? Or were forced into fighting?"

Castiel nodded slowly. "It's possible, I suppose. Souls mean power, the more you possess the more powerful you are."

Dean stood from his chair and started to pace. "So say some power hungry angel was trying to overthrow Naomi and was collecting souls..." He trailed off looking around the room for suggestions.

"I would have fought back." Jo stated, there was no question in her mind.

Dean's lips lifted in a small smile, "Yeah, you would've. But how would you get your body back?"

Jo shrugged, looking back down at the table.

"Jo," Sam pulled her attention over to himself, "Did you have any hand prints anywhere on your body? Have you noticed anything?"

Jo shook her head, "It would have been on the doctors charts." She said gesturing to the stack of papers to her left. "They noted everything else."

Dean walked over to the table and shifted through the charts, his brows furrowed with an idea. Jo could practically see the wheels turning in his head. "What if they hid it?" He asked, flipping open one of the charts, to the pictures the hospital had taken of the lacerations on Jo's side. He tilted the picture sideways and held it up to the light. He smiled as he pointed. "Right there, that's a thumb."

Jo stood next to him staring up at the picture. There it was, obscured by three claw marks, barely raised on the skin, was a hand print seared into her skin. "I was raised?"

"Looks that way sweetheart." Dean smiled down at her. "Now the question is, by who?" He handed the photo to Jo and retook his seat in his chair.

Kevin lifted his head from his own table. "She would have had to be raised as they were falling. It must have been a last resort." Kevin looked around for confirmation, "It had to be right before, like the angel knew what was happening and took Jo with."

Castiel nodded, "It makes sense. It explains why her injuries were still present. They weren't able to finish the resurrection."

"We still need to know who raised her." Dean groaned.

"We need to find an angel." Sam interjected. "At least someone that used to be one."

"Look around," Jo scoffed, "The homeless population had doubled in the last month."

"So what? We just roam the streets looking for a homeless person and ask them if they used to be an angel?" Dean asked incredulously.

"Why not? What better option do we have?" Jo argued.

Dean shrugged, "Fine, me and Castiel will go." He stated, followed by a round of boo's and arguments from the people around him. He held his hands up to quiet everyone down. "Kevin, you just got back from being MIA for two weeks, you're not going anywhere."

"What am I? On house arrest?" Kevin asked indignantly.

"Yeah, you are." Dean stated bluntly. "Sam, you're not going because you can barely stand, don't be stupid. Charlie, you're not going because, well, because I said so."

"And what about me?" Jo challenged. "This whole fact finding mission is about me, why shouldn't I go?"

Dean sighed, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. It was a battle he knew he would lose. "Fine, you can go."

Jo smiled triumphantly. "Damn straight."

* * *

It was a nice day out, barely seventy four degrees, sun shining, birds chirping. Jo leaned into the wooden park bench and tilted her head toward the sun. Letting the warmth wash over her features. She couldn't remember the last time she did this, but she knew, in her gut, she was happy, the last time. It was bright and comforting. Like she could have stayed there forever, but it was just a phantom feeling of a time she couldn't remember.

"What about that one?" Dean's voice pulled her back to reality.

"Hmm?" She hummed following his gaze to the man pulling half eaten food out of a garbage can. His clothes were disheveled but only had maybe a few days of dirt clinging to them. If he was homeless, it couldn't have been for long. "Yeah, okay." She nodded.

The man looked over his shoulder at the trio as if he had overheard them. He dropped the hotdog he had found and continued down the path.

Dean glanced at Jo before he made his way across the park to follow the man. Jo and Castiel not far behind.

The man wound his way through the park, on the trail, off the trail, weaving in and out of trees, quickening his steps, then slowing down, looking over his shoulder every few moves. He was never more than three yards away, but the park was crowded with children and picnics. None of them wanted to spook anyone or cause attention if they ran and tackled this man.

Four adults in a park without a child was suspicious enough.

They reached a secluded area, surrounded by trees and bushes, a dead end, before the man stopped walking. With a sigh he turned to face them. "I know who you are." He nodded toward Dean. "You don't scare me."

Dean's brows creased, "I don't want to scare you. I just want to ask you some questions. That is, if you are what I think you are."

The man, who looked no more than twenty four, glared at Castiel, "I am a fallen angel, as you thought."

"Well, that was easier than I thought it was going to be." Jo muttered from behind Dean.

"I know who you are too, you know." The fallen angel snapped at Jo and immediately bowed his head pinching the bridge of his nose. "I'm sorry," He apologized, "that was rude. I have not yet learned to harness my frustration."

Jo stepped out from behind Dean and stood next to him, "Well, that's alright. I think we all have that problem." She said speaking softly. "It seems you have us at a disadvantage, though. You know who we are, but we don't know who you are."

"I am Tobias." The man responded at once, pursing his lips.

"Tobias, what do you know about Jo here?" Dean asked taking a step forward.

"She was working with the angel Rachel to overthrow Naomi." Tobias answered as if that explained everything.

Castiel bowed his head sighing.

Dean looked from between Tobias and Castiel, "What? Who's Rachel?"

Castiel looked up at Dean, "Rachel was a rogue angel. Well, rogue by Naomi's standards, at least."

Tobias nodded in agreement, "Naomi was trying to corral all of the souls to her side of the fighting so that her army would have the most power. Rachel was an advocate for leaving the souls out of the war, She, as I, believe the souls in Heaven have earned eternal rest, it is not a gift. Ms. Harvelle was Rachel's leader of the soul militia."

"Who raised me?" Jo whispered, the name Rachel pulled at something in the back of her mind. The name was important.

"Rachel, of course." Tobias answered. "I saw it happen. We all felt it, there's a pull in the pit of your stomach and you feel like you are about to fall, ironically enough. But Rachel grabbed onto you by your hip as she was falling and she raised you."

"But why?" Jo took another step toward Tobias, "Why not just leave me there?"

Tobias bowed his head, "There was a fight, you were too close to her when the spell was enacted. Your soul would have fallen to Earth to roam for eternity. You would have been a ghost. She tried to save you."

"Where is she?" Dean asked, "Where is Rachel?"

Tobias shook his head, "I don't know, I imagine she'll be near where you fell." He said never taking his eyes off Jo.

"I need to find her." Jo decided, she knew absolutely what she had to do.

"I was about to suggest the same." Tobias whispered.

"I know you." Jo narrowed her eyes at him, something about his presence was familiar, something about his words brought up a strange sense of deja vu.

"You do. Or you did." Tobias tilted his head to the side and gave her a soft smile, "I'd say we were friends once."

"Why did run then?" Dean interjected, stepping protectively behind Jo.

Tobias shrugged with a sardonic smile, "Habit, I suppose. I wasn't a solider. I'm not that brave, and quite frankly Mr. Winchester, your reputation precedes you." He added with a raised brow.

"Why don't you come with us?" Jo asked hearing Tobias' stomach grumble, "At least get a real meal."

Tobias glanced at Castiel wearily before nodding reluctantly, his stomach clearly making his decision. "I am quite famished."

"That's what I thought." Jo said holding out a hand to him. "Come on, we can talk more once you've eaten."

Tobias nodded again as he slipped his hand into Jo's.

* * *

**Sorry this has taken me so long, this has seriously been one of the harder fics for me to write. Let me know what you think so far, where do you think its going? **

**As always, reviews make me write faster, so come on, bring it on, let me know what you're thinking. **


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